does Lynn drink coffee?
And then I see the way she’s smiling at the guy at the till, and the whole “coffee” thing starts making sense. It’s some guy who graduated from our school last year. He’s got that whole casually tossed, carefully styled, highlighted hair thing going on, a tiny silver lightning bolt pierced through his earlobe, a poet’s patch lurking under his lower lip. He was one of the hotshots of the graduating class. What was his name? I can’t remember. I think it was Chazz or something like that. I’m kind of surprised to see him working here. I would have thought he’d be at university somewhere, on a sports scholarship or something.
Now, normally this kind of guy wouldn’t give us the time of day. He’d never even glance in our direction. But hemust see what I noticed in Lynn on the car ride over, because he’s looking at her like he’s a hungry dog.
“One Pecan Mudslide,” he says. And even though it’s my purchase he’s sliding across the counter, I could just as well be the soft-ice-cream machine. “And...” He does a drumroll. “Coffee for the lovely lady.” He winks at Lynn. How cheesy is that? Who the hell winks in this day and age?
“Come on,” I say, grabbing my ice cream. “Let’s sit over here.” I think she’s following me, but when I plop down in my seat, I can see that the guy is still chatting her up. He’s giving her a pen, a napkin, and now she’s writing her name and phone number down. This guy is way too old for her, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So I eat my ice cream and pretend like I’m enjoying it.
When Lynn finally makes her way to our table, it’s like she’s only half there. Her body is with me, sipping nasty, bittercoffee, but her mind, her smile—they’re still hanging out with Chad. Apparently that’s his name, Chad. Sheesh, even his name reeks of corn.
Chapter Four
“He hasn’t called yet,” Lynn says, spinning her combination lock back around, landing on 32.
“Well...” I’m pretending like I don’t understand it either, but really, I don’t know what Lynn’s been smoking. This guy’s not going to call some starry-eyed eleventh grader no matter how cute she is. “It’s only been two days,” I say. “Maybe he lost it or something.”
She jerks hard on her lock and it opens with a snick. “I doubt it.” Lynn slams her books in her locker and takes out her lunch. “He probably came to his senses. Why would he want to date me? He probably thinks I’m a loser.”
“Isn’t that a little extreme? Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he already has a girlfriend.”
“Then why,” Lynn says patiently, like I’m really stupid, “would he ask for my number?”
“Because he’s an asshole?” I say helpfully.
“Oh, shut up.” She whacks me on the arm. Not hard. Not in a mean way.
“Maybe he likes collecting phone numbers so he can feel like a hotshot. Relive his glory days.”
“Give me a break. Chad wouldn’t do that.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know. The guy’s perfect.” No way to argue with that kind of logic, so I keep my mouth shut while Lynn closesher locker. We swing by the bathroom so she can give her hair a brush, reapply her strawberry lip-gloss. I put some on too, and then we head out to the field.
I think she’s going to let the subject drop, but I’m no more than two bites into my tuna fish sandwich when she starts up again.
“Do you think he’s going to call?”
“Who?”
“Chad,” Lynn says impatiently.
It’s really a no-win situation. “I don’t know,” I say. “What about Dwayne? I thought you were going out with him.”
“Oh puleaze!”
“What? I thought you were.”
“I’m done with him,” Lynn snorts in disgust.
“He’s too young. So babyish!”
“But...” I say, feeling slightly panicky.
“He’s our age.”
“So what. He doesn’t act like it. Last weekend we went for a hike.”
“Um-hmm...” I nod. I don’t know what’s so wrong with
And then I see the way she’s smiling at the guy at the till, and the whole “coffee” thing starts making sense. It’s some guy who graduated from our school last year. He’s got that whole casually tossed, carefully styled, highlighted hair thing going on, a tiny silver lightning bolt pierced through his earlobe, a poet’s patch lurking under his lower lip. He was one of the hotshots of the graduating class. What was his name? I can’t remember. I think it was Chazz or something like that. I’m kind of surprised to see him working here. I would have thought he’d be at university somewhere, on a sports scholarship or something.
Now, normally this kind of guy wouldn’t give us the time of day. He’d never even glance in our direction. But hemust see what I noticed in Lynn on the car ride over, because he’s looking at her like he’s a hungry dog.
“One Pecan Mudslide,” he says. And even though it’s my purchase he’s sliding across the counter, I could just as well be the soft-ice-cream machine. “And...” He does a drumroll. “Coffee for the lovely lady.” He winks at Lynn. How cheesy is that? Who the hell winks in this day and age?
“Come on,” I say, grabbing my ice cream. “Let’s sit over here.” I think she’s following me, but when I plop down in my seat, I can see that the guy is still chatting her up. He’s giving her a pen, a napkin, and now she’s writing her name and phone number down. This guy is way too old for her, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So I eat my ice cream and pretend like I’m enjoying it.
When Lynn finally makes her way to our table, it’s like she’s only half there. Her body is with me, sipping nasty, bittercoffee, but her mind, her smile—they’re still hanging out with Chad. Apparently that’s his name, Chad. Sheesh, even his name reeks of corn.
Chapter Four
“He hasn’t called yet,” Lynn says, spinning her combination lock back around, landing on 32.
“Well...” I’m pretending like I don’t understand it either, but really, I don’t know what Lynn’s been smoking. This guy’s not going to call some starry-eyed eleventh grader no matter how cute she is. “It’s only been two days,” I say. “Maybe he lost it or something.”
She jerks hard on her lock and it opens with a snick. “I doubt it.” Lynn slams her books in her locker and takes out her lunch. “He probably came to his senses. Why would he want to date me? He probably thinks I’m a loser.”
“Isn’t that a little extreme? Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he already has a girlfriend.”
“Then why,” Lynn says patiently, like I’m really stupid, “would he ask for my number?”
“Because he’s an asshole?” I say helpfully.
“Oh, shut up.” She whacks me on the arm. Not hard. Not in a mean way.
“Maybe he likes collecting phone numbers so he can feel like a hotshot. Relive his glory days.”
“Give me a break. Chad wouldn’t do that.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know. The guy’s perfect.” No way to argue with that kind of logic, so I keep my mouth shut while Lynn closesher locker. We swing by the bathroom so she can give her hair a brush, reapply her strawberry lip-gloss. I put some on too, and then we head out to the field.
I think she’s going to let the subject drop, but I’m no more than two bites into my tuna fish sandwich when she starts up again.
“Do you think he’s going to call?”
“Who?”
“Chad,” Lynn says impatiently.
It’s really a no-win situation. “I don’t know,” I say. “What about Dwayne? I thought you were going out with him.”
“Oh puleaze!”
“What? I thought you were.”
“I’m done with him,” Lynn snorts in disgust.
“He’s too young. So babyish!”
“But...” I say, feeling slightly panicky.
“He’s our age.”
“So what. He doesn’t act like it. Last weekend we went for a hike.”
“Um-hmm...” I nod. I don’t know what’s so wrong with
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